The Daughter
by Blr
Summary: Sam and Dean are trying to get back the way things were before the Mark. It's hard enough as it is, but on a routine vampire hunt, things take a turn neither of the brothers ever saw coming. And they meet someone - or something - they'd have never believed existed.
1. Chapter 1

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hey guys. I'm trying my hand out at this stuff. I've written plenty of fanfic before, but it's always been based on a book. I find writing fanfic based on novels far easier than tv shows. It's just... easier for me somehow. So please, friends, be gentle with me. I have to be completely honest with you - mostly because why wouldn't I be? We're all friends here. I'm kind of forcing myself to write this. I mean, I have a story to tell, but once again, writing based on a television show is HARD. I could write a script for one easily enough. But a coherent story? Ell oh Ell! So anyway, if you happen to read this, and you happen to enjoy it, please let me know. I want to do this, but I don't want to just put it up here for my own entertainment. Please, let me know what you think.

As per usual, I own none of this except for my OC, and, in case you were interested, the two vampires you meet here in the opening DO have names (and backstories). They're friends from other forms of media that just begged for a bit part in my story. So I allowed it. : )

Once again, please enjoy. And if you do, please let me know.

* * *

 _For it has been prophesied, and so it shall be, that when the Darkness comes, then, too, shall come the Light._

CHAPTER ONE

Sam leaned up against the wall of the alleyway, just hidden in the shadows cast by the sodium lights lining the streets of Williamsburg, Virginia. He restlessly scuffed his feet, fighting against the chill of the early January air. He could still hear the laughter of the girl he'd seen at the bar, the one who'd been lead out by a woman he was certain was a vampire. His phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out to check the text.

 _Got eyes on him?_

Sam opened the phone to text back, but then decided to call instead. It rang once and then he heard his older brother's gruff, "What's up?"

"Hey. I've got eyes on the vamp. It's not a him, it's a her."

Dean grunted. "Any idea where the nest is?"

Sam shook his head, even though he knew Dean couldn't see him. "No. I only see the one." Sam ducked his head around the corner. The two girls (well, one girl and a vampire) were still standing across the street, leaned on a pair of cars talking and laughing. It was an interesting sight. Vamps were normally pretty quick to snatch and grab.

"You following them?"

"Um… no. They're not going anywhere."

"What," Dean asked incredulously, "They sitting around having dinner, or something? Maybe talking about their boyfriends?"

"Actually," Sam replied, the surprise apparent in his voice, "Yeah. They kinda are." Sam ducked back around the corner, where the two women were now sitting on the hood of one car. They, like Sam, were just out of easy view, the lights from the street barely reaching the spot where they stood. As Sam watched, the vampire took the other girl by the hand, leading her out of the lights completely to what looked like a cut through of some sort through a wooded area. "Hey, look, Dean. They're on the move. I've gotta go."

After checking that his machete was good to go and telling Dean where he was headed so he could get some backup, Sam swiftly crossed the mostly deserted streets and headed in the direction the monster and her victim had headed. It didn't take long for Sam to see where they were headed. The wooded area was actually large enough to be considered a small park, and there was a clearing in the middle where a small fire burned. He could hear laughter coming from that direction, as well as make out the silhouettes of the two women he was following.

Sam walked carefully through the woods, twigs and dry leaves crackling under his large feet. How had the two women moved so quietly through all this crap? His phone buzzed to let him know that Dean had arrived, and Sam hunched down when he got close enough to have a good view of the fire and the area surrounding it. The two women were sitting beside the fire, incredibly close to one another. There was another person there - Sam was fairly certain by the shape of their body that it was a man. He got nervous at that point. Sam could (probably) handle one vampire by himself. But two was enough to make him nervous.

This was seriously just a weird situation Sam had found himself in. Strange to the point that he was beginning to doubt that he was correct about the woman being a vampire. A burst of laughter almost covered the sound of someone creeping through the underbrush behind Sam - but just almost. Sam's head spun around, and he saw a small flashing red light - Dean was signalling him. Sam pulled the pen light out of his pocket and flashed back.

And so it was that Dean and Sam sat in the darkness of the woods together, spying on what was looking more and more likely to be a group of college students sneaking out for a bonfire. In fact, they were so certain they'd made a mistake, they were about to leave when the young woman, Sam's assumed victim, look off her jacket and shirt and bared her body to the other girl and the boy sitting with them.

Both hiding men paused, awkwardly not wanting to be voyeurs, but yet also struck by the girl's body. She was covered from her wrists to her shoulders in strange symbols that they couldn't quite make out in the firelight. Her belly was covered, as well. She looked like a canvas. And then there was the fact that she was just so incredibly pleasing to the eye. She was, from the distance, curvy, but not overly so. There was something about her that made both men feel, deep down inside, that she would be excellent breeding material - it was a primal, strange sensation that neither had ever really felt before.

And, as they stared, the woman seated beside the girl (the one Sam had been so certain was a vampire an hour before) reached out to caress the girl's colorful waist. The man stood, tall and well-built, crossing in front of the fire to take a seat on the young woman's other side. He, too, seemed to be unable to resist touching her flesh. Sam and Dean both exchanged a glance. Not only had they been mistaken in their assertion that this was a case of a monster luring their victim somewhere quiet, but they had apparently stumbled upon some sort of weird college kid orgy.

"Dude," Dean whispered to Sam. "Is this was Stanford was like?"

"Um… no," Sam replied, his eyes glued back to what was going on in front of him. "If it was, you'd have never gotten me to leave."

The brothers bumped fists without taking their eyes from the scene playing out by the fire. And, that moment, they were completely caught unawares when first the young woman on the left and then the young man on the right sank their teeth into the colorful flesh of the girl in the middle.

The brothers were so taken by surprise that they took longer than usual to react. Sam cried out as he struggled to stand, his joints stiff from his time on the cold ground. Dean was only slightly slower, rising from his crouch angrily and setting off at a charge, right at the heels of his younger brother. At the sound of Sam's voice, the young woman in the center threw her hand out in front of her, even as the two vamps pulled away in shock. The fire flared up, causing Sam and Dean to lose even more precious time as they quickly slowed, holding their hands up to shield themselves from the roaring flames.

By the time the fire had returned to its normal size, the tattooed woman stood protectively in front of the two vampires, who looked as if they were about to bolt at any second. Blood had stained her white bra red and ran in rivulets down her collarbones, but she stood firm, the fire reflecting in her eyes.

"Back off," she said quietly.

Sam and Dean both stopped. "Wait, what?" Dean said, and Sam felt just as confused. "Lady, those are vampires." Dean stressed.

Still facing the brothers aggressively, anger in her stance, the young woman nodded. "Of course they are. And you're nutjobs with machetes. Get the hell away from us."

Sam could hear the fear in the girl's voice, but just barely. He held his hands out in front of him, the machete in his right hand loose and pointed at the ground. He nudged Dean, who after an eye roll, did the same. "Hey, look," Sam said soothingly, "We're just trying to help you. You're in danger. I don't know what they told you -"

"They didn't tell me anything," the woman retorted, her eyes darting back and forth between the two weapons. "I told them I could heal them. And here they are, all scared out of their minds, but still trusting me, and then you two buffoons come out of the woods like crazed serial killers…" her voice trailed off, the fear far more noticeable now.

"Wait, what?" Dean said again, sounding even to himself like a broken record.

Sam crinkled his brow. "You told them you could _heal_ them?"

"Yes. I did. And I can, if you guys would just… stop."

Dean sighed, his heart feeling heavy. "Look, sweetheart. It's true. There is a cure for vampirism. One. But it has to happen before the vampire takes their first drink of human blood. And, obviously, it's too late for these two." He gestured to the two vampires who were still, surprisingly, hanging around behind the girl.

The female stepped forward slightly, "No, it's true!" She cried out, "She healed our other nestmates last night!"

Sam and Dean glanced at one another.

The tattooed girl stepped back, so that she was almost in line with the two vampires. "Listen, I'd love to talk about this and all, but time's a -wastin'. I'm fine, seriously. This is not my first rodeo. Now, if you'd please, I'd like to get back to what I was doing."

"Wait!" Sam said angrily, taking a step forward. "You don't understand. They can't be cured. The only thing they're going to do is kill you."

"I'd like to see them try," the girl with the tattoos replied. And she held her hands out to the two vampires. "Come on guys, it's safe." This was the first thing the girl said fearlessly, and the brothers stared as the two vampires once again came to her, their hands once more touching her body as if it were a compulsion, not a choice. When the man hesitated, the young woman nodded. "I'm serious. It's fine. They're not going to hurt you. Not while I'm here."

And, because Sam and Dean were entirely unsure what to do, they didn't.

After what felt like forever, both vampires stopped their feeding, both spitting out the blood in their mouths. "Oh God," the man moaned, "It's _disgusting_!"

"Yes," the tattooed girl whispered, her eyes still fixed on Sam and Dean. "It is. Because it's no longer what your body needs." The female vamp gagged and retched. "Yeah," the girl continued. "Sorry about that. There's some mouthwash and granola bars in my bag. And a couple of bottles of water."

The two supposedly healed vampires stumbled over to a canvas bag on the ground, digging through it. They found the mouthwash, the water, and the granola bars, as well as some wet wipes. They began cleaning themselves up near the fire. Dean heard the female one whisper, "It's so _cold_ out here. I haven't been cold in decades."

The woman glanced their way, and the fire burned a bit more fervently.

"How - " Sam swallowed. "How are you doing that?"

The girl shrugged as she turned to pick up the clothing she had left lying on the ground, "It's not something that can be explained," she said softly. "I just can."

"How long have you been this way?" Dean asked, eyeing the couple sitting huddled by the fire, eating granola bars like they were the greatest thing on earth, and moaning in pleasure. At the taste of a _granola_ bar.

The girl shrugged again. "Since before you were born."

Sam and Dean traded a long, meaningful gaze, one that held both fear and curiosity.

"What _are_ you?" Sam asked timidly.

The girl turned, fire once again reflecting in her eyes. "You may call us The Daughter." replied a voice that wasn't her own.


	2. Chapter 2

AUTHOR"S NOTE:

Hello everyone. Welcome to chapter two. I'm playing around with kind of random ideas, so please just bear with me here. Shout outs to things that I'm sort-of being inspired by - Simon R Green's The Nightside series gave me a wonderful vision in my head of part of what I'm playing with here, as well as Jim Butcher's Codex Alera series (vaguely), as well as good old Stephen King, and I'll add in more as they come about.

I'm a compulsive Traffic checker, so I know that people have read the first chapter of this, and yet, no one had chosen to review it. I'd like it if you would. As I said, compulsive traffic checker here... and compulsive review checker, too. So please, if you like this, or hate this or anywhere in between, don't hesitate to let me know. You can always also PM me.

I gotta be honest, this story is coming to me as I write it, so I'm not sure what's going to happen here - and I'm not sure I want to, yet. I kind of like being surprised. I don't expect to continue posting a chapter a day, although stranger things have happened, so who can know?

Anyway, I do ask that you read, enjoy, fav or follow. Also, I wish to remind you that I own nothing about this. So, you know, there's that.

And one more thing - there is a line in here about self-harming. Maybe I should warn you guys about that...

* * *

CHAPTER TWO

One Month Ago… Lebanon, KS

Dean sat silently at the table, staring at the open book in front of him. He was tired, and angry, and frustrated. His mind was running a thousand miles an hour, replaying over and over each and every thing he had done since the Mark of Cain had first been placed on his arm. Over and over, again and again, Dean watched in his mind as he slaughtered man and woman alike. He could still feel the power coursing through his veins, the rage building up and up, filling him until he felt as if he were going to burst.

Dean could never tell anyone, ever, but at night, when the dreams of blood and fire and sweat and tears would make him bolt awake, panting and sweating, this whole body sang with desire, his manhood throbbing painfully, straining against his boxer briefs. Dean felt heat rise, his cheeks burning, even now at just the memory of such things. He felt sick, disgusted, and broken as hell. He glanced at his hands and noticed his fingers shaking. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Dean tried to calm his nerves. He opened his eyes and continued staring at the book, though his eyes saw nothing but blood.

Sam leaned against the counter in the kitchen. He poured a cup of coffee, shuddering as he heard the noises come from beyond the doors of the bunker. The Darkness had descended upon the earth less than a week ago, and Sam knew that he and Dean should be out there, fighting, working to lock the Darkness back up. But the truth was, Dean couldn't handle it. Sam would never tell him that, of course, but he had seen how fragile his brother's psyche had been the last few days. And so Sam had made the decision that, for the time being at least, he would keep Dean safe, here, in the bunker.

Of course, keeping Dean safe in the bunker was harder than Sam had imagined. Dean had horrible memories of this place now - the place that Dean had once been so quietly proud of. He didn't stay in his own bedroom anymore, didn't wander the halls. Hell, if Sam was being completely honest, he was more of a death echo than anything else, reliving the fight with Cas over and over again, his eyes haunted. Dean shook all the time - a barely perceptible vibration, one not of poorly contained violence the way he had in the past, but that of a person on the verge of a breakdown. Sam knew - he'd been there. He remembered when he'd awoken from Bobby's bunker, his soul newly replaced, with the nagging feeling that at any time, he would just… stop working.

And so Sam did his best to ignore the howls of who knew what that started when the now dimmed sun set and the moon rose. Sam had ventured outdoors once, after the Darkness came. He had seen how much larger the moon now seemed, as if it were suddenly thousands of miles closer than it had been this time last week. He had seen things - large things - lurking in the darkness, just outside his vision. And he knew now that he had never truly known fear until that moment.

Dean seemed content for the time being, to sit in the library under the pretense of research. Sam carefully didn't mention that not only was there no mention of the Darkness in anything any of the Men of Letters had written, he quietly ignored the fact that Dean had been staring at the same page in the same book for the last six hours. Sighing heavily, Sam opened the fridge to find what he could make for Dean for dinner. They were steadily going through the majority of their stock, which meant that at some point in time, Sam would have to make a run. And he wasn't certain he'd even be able to do so.

As far as Sam could tell, nothing was working - anywhere. Cell phones were down - they would turn on, of course, but there were no towers left to carry even a phone call. There was nothing but static on the radios. The televisions were snow. Even the land line phone was nothing but garbled noises. Still, they had to eat.

Sam pulled a slab of bacon out of the freezer and sat it in the sink to thaw. He slipped down the hallway to check on Dean, only to find him missing from the seat he hadn't moved from almost all day. Sam's heart leapt from his throat, just for a moment in time. "Dean?" he called out. "Hey man, ya hungry?" No response.

He moved slowly out of the library, heading down the stairs to the bedrooms. As he passed the stairwell to the basement, he heard a sound. Thump thump thump…. the sound reverberated through the hall, slowly becoming faster and faster. Furrowing his brow, Sam pulled the door open. The thumping grew louder as the door moved soundlessly on its hinges. Creeping down the concrete stairs, Sam pulled Ruby's demon knife out of its sheath and readied himself to fight. What he saw gave him pause.

Dean was turned facing a wall, ramming his head into it. He was grunting, panting, crying, and… Sam's eyes widened and immediately, he climbed the stairs as quickly and quietly as possible, closing the door behind him with little more than a click. Sam swiftly made his way to the liquor cabinet, where he poured himself two fingers of scotch and hoped he wouldn't see that image when he closed his eyes. As badly as he wanted to just be disgusted, he would be lying if he didn't also acknowledge that it was just incredibly heart wrenching to see anyone, especially his brother, do that to themselves. But, as much as Sam wanted to help Dean, there was no way in hell that he would be broaching that subject.

Sam wished, not for the first time since he and Dean had unleashed the Darkness, that Cas was around. Hell, at this point, he'd even take Crowley, even if Crowley would probably just gut Sam and then be off. Now that Sam thought about it, he could easily summon Crowley. And it wasn't a bad idea. Apart from the whole, "just tried to kill him last week," thing, that was. But, realistically, it wasn't the first time the brothers had tried to kill the king of Hell. And Crowley had done his fair share of trying to kill the brothers, as well.

Sam sighed heavily, still uncomfortable with the idea. He refilled his scotch and headed back into the kitchen. He heard Dean come in behind him, and wasn't sure if he could bring himself to meet his brother's eye. He heard, not saw, Dean open the fridge, looking for a beer, and Sam actually felt a little bit better - Dean hadn't been drinking since the Darkness arrived, and while in a different situation, Sam would take that as a good thing, it had just been one more reminder that Dean was not doing well.

Sam placed the bacon in the pan, frying it hot and fast and only partly done, the way Dean liked it. Without paying attention to his brother, who he could tell was hovering, eyeing his every move, Sam pulled out a loaf of bread, popping two pieces in the toaster. "Want to grab the mayo?" Sam asked, his voice sounding off to him, as if he were speaking into a paper towel tube. The fridge opened, shut, and then the jar of mayonnaise appeared at Sam's side. He listened as Dean walked away, and felt his shoulders relax, just slightly.

Dean walked away from the kitchen with the feeling that Sam was uncomfortable around him. He supposed that was to be expected - less than seven days ago, he had basically asked for permission to murder his brother in cold blood. And Sammy had actually given it to him. Something rattled against the door of the bunker, and Dean's shot it a glance. The door rattled again, harder this time. Dean slowly crept up the stairs to the door, his hand resting at his side, him fingering the knife he held there.

Then he heard a familiar voice. "Dammit, Moose! Squirrel!" Crowley was crying, "Let me the hell in before one of these things decides it wants to know what demon tastes like!" Dean opened the door nervously and was quickly pushed out of the way by the king of Hell. "Shut the damned door!" Crowley yelled, shoving it closed himself. Dean backed down the staircase, certain this wasn't just a friendly visit.

When the door was sealed and Crowley had caught his breath, he turned to Dean, his eyes darting to the bottom of the stairs where Sam stood with a particularly nervous look on his face. "So glad you were home," the demon said, and surprisingly enough, both brothers were pretty sure he meant it. "Your angel has lost his mind. He's trying to murder me!"

* * *

An hour later, Sam and Dean had finished their dinner (with Sam politely ignoring the scrapes Dean had gotten while downstairs) and Crowley had finally calmed down enough to explain to them what was going on. Apparently, Rowena had not only managed to complete the spell, thus releasing the Darkness, she had also cast some kind of spell on Castiel causing him to bleed from the eyes and attempt to kill Crowley.

"And you don't understand, boys. He's tracking me. Everywhere I go. I finally had no choice but to enter the Darkness - it's the only place he can't find me."

"Enter the Darkness?" Sam asked, picking up his beer, "What do you mean? Isn't the Darkness just… I don't know, everywhere?"

Crowley frowned. "Absolutely not, Moose! What did you think? That the world was just suddenly… I don't know, swallowed up and that was that?"

Dean shrugged and muttered his first words in days. "Well, yeah."

The demon shook his head as if he couldn't handle the idiocy of the brothers. "No, boys. No. Granted, a large portion of Kansas is now nothing more than flattened trees and broken buildings. and well, Nebraska, too, but really, who cares about Nebraska? The Darkness, as far as my demons are telling me, is spread out in about a 200 mile radius from a small Mexican restaurant that's for sale about three miles from this very spot. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you boys?"

The Winchesters stayed silent.

"No. Thought not," Crowley continued. "Outside of that 200 mile radius, life is going on as usual. Now, granted, over the last day or so, my fine network of informants has informed me that they believe the Darkness is indeed expanding, but at an incredibly slow rate - estimates say between a quarter to a half a mile a day. But, as of now, there is a distinct divide between life without…" he raised his arms wide, bringing them back into him as he continued, "And life within."

Dean frowned. "You said that Cas can't track you in the Darkness?"

"Give the man a prize," Crowley said. "In fact, nothing seems to work in the Darkness. Aside from the two of you, I am, as far as I know, the only living being within it - 'living' being, of course, a relative term. And, of course, I can't use any of my abilities, either. Of course, that also means that no protective magic, such as your Devil's Traps, would appear to work, either. Or did you boys fail to notice that I was able to move freely from the front entrance in your haste to get to your… meal of undercooked pork on stale enriched white bread?"

Sam and Dean shared a glance. "So, that means…" Sam started.

"Yes," Crowley said, a look of frustration on his face. "Here, in this, I am effectively human. As helpless as you to the creatures roaming the darkness."

"So," Sam followed, "You actually walked almost 200 miles to get to us?"

"Don't be daft," Crowley said, "I stole a car. I drove. I almost made it here before nightfall, as well. I had hoped to get my start with the sunrise, but that damned angel wouldn't give me time to catch my breath. You've got to lift whatever spell my mother cast on him, boys." He swallowed hard. "Please."

Sam glanced at Dean, who shrugged weakly. "If we're going to get through this, I don't think we can afford to lose anyone we can consider an ally - no matter how loosely we use the term," Dean replied, his eyes never leaving Crowley's.

Sam nodded, frowning. "Yeah. You're right. Dean, do you mind going and grabbing some books from the storage room? Maybe see if you can find anything on the Book of the Damned down in storage?"

Dean's glanced from Sam to Crowley and back. But he was too worn out to argue. "Sure," he replied, standing and leaving the room.

Crowley leaned back in his chair and eyed Sam. "I'm assuming there's something you wanted to talk to me about, Moose?"

Sam began to explain what he had seen so far from Dean's behavior. Crowley's face never changed from a slightly smug smile. "Yes. Well, I'm not sure why you'd be so surprised. He has touched a level of darkness kids like you can only dream of. Even I am not sure what he has had running through his mind for the last year."

"You're saying there's nothing you can do to help him?"

Crowley shrugged. "How could I? I'm a demon, Sam. I don't heal people. It's not in my nature. Particularly here and now."

Sam leaned back in frustration. "You can't even talk to him?"

"And say what?" Crowley asked, the smirk replaced with a look that Sam would almost have sworn was frustration, "Hey, look, mate - I hear you've got some very specific kink going on in your life and I just wanted to let you know that I'm here for you if you feel you have any urges you'd like to work out with a partner?"

Sam flushed and dropped his eyes. "Just… forget about it," he replied.

"Yes, well," Crowley said, a devious gleam in his eye, "It's certainly not a mental image I can let go of that easily, but I'll do my best."

They sat in silence for what felt like forever, but was probably only closer to about an hour. Crowley seemed incredibly nervous around Sam, and it took Sam a few minutes before he realized that he and Crowley were on even ground, physically speaking. Crowley didn't have his demon abilities to back him up. He was just a short little man who could easily be overpowered by Sam, who was superior to Crowley in every way that mattered. Sam stayed where he was purely out of fear of how his earlier search for Dean had turned out.

It was an incredible relief when Dean came back upstairs, carrying only a single book. "Sam," he said, "Can you make heads or tails of this?"

Sam took the book from Dean and opened it up. "It's just another ledger, Dean." Sam began.

"Yeah, that's what I thought, too," Dean replied. "But look at the row that shows where they should be." He leaned forward, barely touching Sam's shoulder, and pointed.

Instead of seeing the standard Men of Letters filing information, there were a group of numbers that looked… "They're coordinates," Sam murmured.

"That's what I thought, too," Dean replied. "There are a couple ledgers like this down there. They all seem to list the same place."

"Yeah? I wonder what's there."

Dean shrugged. "I don't know, but I get the feeling that maybe we should head out of this place and see."

Sam, against his better judgement, nodded in agreement.


	3. Chapter 3

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Hey guys. It's me. I'm back. Um... more inspiration I forgot to mention before - the Matthew Swift series by Kate Griffin. Man, does she have a way of making you think. So, this is once again, not something I own, just something I enjoy toying with. I hope you'll read, enjoy, review, and favorite/follow. This chapter is a little bit shorter than the others, but it's a good pausing point, I feel. Like I said, I don't expect to put out a new chapter daily, but hey. Who knows. so far it's looking that way.

Um... no real warnings in this chapter, not really. Let me know what you think. And, of course, please enjoy.

* * *

CHAPTER THREE

"So…" Sam drawled for the third time to the girl in front of the bonfire. "Those two vampires over there…"

"Those two _people_ over there," the girl corrected. "That's all they are now." She had pulled on her sweater and jacket, though she left it unzipped despite the cold.

The vampeople (as Dean had started calling them in his head) were huddled close to the fire, whispering to one another happily.

"Fine," Sam said exasperated, "Those two _people_. What happens to them now?"

She shrugged. "I give them the number to a guy I know. He creates a new identity for them. They do whatever they'd like. Maybe Aiden will go to school. Maybe Inara will open a bakery. Maybe they'll stay together and get married and make lots of little human babies and maybe one of their kids will discover a cure for cancer or something. I don't know. I don't necessarily care, either, to be honest."

Dean narrowed his eyes. "You do care," he murmured. "You seem to care quite a bit. Hell, you jumped in front of them to protect them from two machete wielding maniacs."

Her eyes darted toward him. "Fine. I care. But I won't know. They won't contact me again unless they somehow have need of my services. None of them ever do." She looked wistfully at the man and woman, currently just… laughing... as if freezing in the woods while snacking on granola and bottled water was their idea of the perfect night out. "But I hope whatever else happens, that they are happy," she whispered.

Sam and Dean exchanged a look. "None of _them_?" Sam asked. "Is this something you do often?"

The girl shrugged. "I've done it enough over the centuries. I know how these things work. They'll tell themselves they'll call me to thank me. But every time they think of me, they'll remember what they were. And they don't want that. And soon enough, they'll convince themselves that I won't want to hear from them." She rubbed her left hand over her right arm, an absentminded, nervous gesture. Not only had she admitted that she had lived far longer than the average human, the Winchesters had just seen her do something impossible, and instead of pleased, she simply seemed sad. "Excuse me," she said, glancing back to the couple. "I need to finish my part of this."

The woman grabbed her canvas bag and pulled out a business card holder, kneeling to hand two cards to each of the vampeople and talk to them about something. After a few minutes during which Sam and Dean stood awkwardly and uncomfortably, the two former monsters stood, each taking a turn to hug the girl before heading back the way they had come. They blatantly ignored the brothers. The girl stood dusting cold, damp dirt from the knees of her jeans, and faced the brothers. She gestured at the fire once more. "You guys need this?"

"Um… no. No thanks," Sam stuttered. "We're okay."

She nodded and the flames dimmed to a dull glow. She sat on the log she'd been sitting on with the two newly-cured vampires earlier and stared into the dying embers.

Dean cleared his throat uncomfortably. "So, how old are you?" Dean asked awkwardly.

"Too old," she said mildly, "At least, that's how it feels."

"Uh huh."

She shrugged. "I honestly don't know how old I am. I've been… here for a very, very, very long time. And, sometimes, I dream that I was once somewhere else. Although I suppose everyone has those sorts of dreams from time to time. Would you guys like to have a seat? I never turn down the chance for real company."

"Um, actually, we kind of need to get back to our place," Sam said softly.

"Oh, well, that's understandable," she replied. "I imagine it's pretty cold out here for you guys."

"Yeah, it is."

Dean frowned. "So, wait. You just turned those two vampires into people, right? And now you're just letting them walk away. That one girl said she'd been a vampire for at least a hundred years. Do you really think they're just going to go back to living a perfectly normal life, after all that time of being monsters? You honestly don't think they'll just… I don't know, start killing people because they miss the thrill?" Something twinged in Dean's chest as he said it - a faint reminder of his time spent with the Mark. The urge to perhaps shed a little blood - just for the hell of it.

"They won't," she stated matter of factly.

"But how do you _know_ that?" Dean pressed.

"Because they've been forgiven. They have received their peace. They will. of course, remember the pain and the horrible things they did. But they will understand. That's not who they are anymore. It's not _what_ they are."

Dean glanced back up the trail toward the parking lot. "That's… that's not how it works," he murmured.

The girl sighed heavily. " _Yes_ ," she said forcefully. "It is. You guys sure do spend a lot of time telling folks who know better that they're wrong, you know."

Sam swallowed hard. She may have been right on that part.

Dean glanced at Sam. "So, you're the Daughter," he said. "Is that what we call you?"

The girl shrugged. "That's what we call ourself from time to time. But you can call me…" she trailed off as she glanced around the forest, her eyes falling to some English Ivy climbing a nearby tree. "Ivy, if you'd like."

Sam followed her gaze. "Ivy," he repeated.

"It's as good a name as any," she whispered.

"You know, you make finding out about you very difficult," Sam said.

"That's sort of the point. I've encountered your kind before. I understand your mentality. Not human? Then bad. Not bad? Still dangerous. And dangerous means better off dead. I don't want to have to hurt the two of you," she said, glancing up, her eyes catching the moonlight. Both brothers' muscles flexed. Neither liked that phrase.

"Is that a threat?" Dean muttered, his muscles tensing. He remembered the last time someone had said such a thing to him. _Dammit, Castiel… we have to find a way to fix you..._

"Of course not," Ivy said softly, looking away. "I haven't threatened you at all. I've simply told you how things are. All I want to do is be left in peace. A peace that is harder and harder to find, since the Darkness was released. We can feel it, you know. Even from here. Its pull is hard to resist. But it just wants to devour us. And that's not something we're comfortable letting happen."

"We? Us?" Sam asked, the cold creeping into his bones.

"Yes. We. The Daughter."

"So, there's more than one of you, then?"

"No. There's just me. We. Us. It's… it's difficult to explain."

Dean sneered. He was just about done with this chick. "Listen. Stop jerking us around here and actually answer what we're asking you."

The girl stood, and for just a moment, Sam could've sworn he saw something else behind her eyes. "No," she said angrily. "You don't get to choose what I say to you. You don't get to come here, to _my_ place of power, and then force me to say anything to you. I'm not some pathetic little being that's just so afraid of the big bad monsters in front of me that I will bow down and spill my guts to you. We have been more than kind to you. You would do well to respect that - to respect _me_."

Sam frowned. "Ivy, we're just humans. We're not monsters."

"You keep telling yourselves that if that's what gets you through the night," she huffed angrily. She reached to grab her canvas bag. "But you both know what you are. You both know what you've done. You call yourselves whatever you'd like. I will do the same."

Dean silently stood, his head down. _Monsters_ , she had said. He once more felt his cheeks heat as he remembered the pain he had caused. The horrible things he had done. The sheer pleasure he had taken from doing them. Here was a girl that had just changed monsters to people. She claimed she had given them peace. And here he and Sam were, bullying her around as if she were just another hunt.

He lifted his eyes to see Ivy watching him, her face echoing the pain he felt inside. "Oh, I'm so _sorry_ ," she whispered. "Truly I am."

He turned away from her. "Come on, Sammy," he said softly, "Let's get out of here."

"Wait," Ivy murmured. She reached out to touch Dean's shoulder. The flash of heat that flowed through him when she touched him felt… safe. Like home. "Here," she said, holding out a business card much like the one she had given the two vampeople. "Call me if you need me." She leaned close to Dean, pressing the card into his hand. "I'm in the business of forgiving _people_ , too," she whispered into his ear.

Her touch, her voice, her breath against his ear. It shocked Dean, made him feel things he hadn't felt in what seemed like forever. As she pulled away, her lips brushed Dean's cheek. And in that moment, he felt a clarity that he couldn't remember having felt in… well, he was pretty sure he'd never felt it before. She turned and walked away, through the darkness, her feet making no sound as she passed over fallen leaves and broken branches. And Dean just watched her go his feelings conflicted, as Sam stood awkwardly aside and pretended he hadn't seen the look of longing on Dean's face as he watched her leave.

* * *

The Winchesters arrived back at the bunker they'd been lead to by the coordinates within the Men of Letters' ledger Dean had found. It was in what appeared to be a City of Williamsburg Waterworks department building. The bunker was laid out in virtually the same manner as the one they'd called home in Lebanon, leaving both brothers with an eerie sense of deja vu. However, the furnishings were different enough that Dean was left feeling less pained as he walked the halls, and he appeared, at least to Sam, to be more comfortable here. Sam hoped that was a good thing.

"Well, that was a bust," Dean said, removing his jacket and hanging it over one of the chairs resting at the desk.

"Yeah," Sam said absent mindedly. "I guess so."

"Well, I, for one, am beat," Dean said gruffly. "I'm gonna head off to bed."

Sam nodded, a look of concern in his eye. "Sure thing, Dean. I'm gonna go down to the library, see if maybe I can find something that'll help Cas."

Dean nodded. "Good idea. I'll see you in the morning." He walked toward the bedrooms, pausing as he reached the stairs. "Oh, and Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"It'd probably be a good thing if we looked to see if there was anything about this Daughter thing, too."

"Yeah, Dean," Sam replied, trying to keep his voice level. He had heard the hope in Dean's voice just then. And hope was such a fragile thing for his brother. "You read my mind."

"See if you can find a way to kill her," Dean said, his voice trembling with… was that fear? "You know, just in case."

Sam shivered involuntarily. "Yeah, Dean. Just in case."


	4. Chapter 4

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Thanks for hanging with me this far. I hope it's because you enjoy the story. Please - continue to read, continue to enjoy, and (please please please) review/follow/favorite! Thank you to those of you who have done so - special shout-out to Super-nerdiful. Very glad you're interested. For the rest of you, I'd like to know what you're thinking, too.

As per usual, obligatory "I own none of Supernatural" statement is here. And I'm afraid in this chapter you can see my Matthew Swift influence show full force. Hope that's a good thing. Please, enjoy.

* * *

CHAPTER FOUR

Sam sighed heavily, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger to try to ease the tension headache he felt building. A quick glance at the clock told him that it was well past midnight, and he was absolutely no closer to finding a cure for Cas than he had been a month ago. His eyes were running together with all the reading he had done, the words now nothing more than a blur on the page.

Standing, he decided to grab a quick nightcap before heading to bed. Cas was absolutely the most important part of this whole mess, being that he was the only one who could even begin to give them information on the Darkness and what it was. He grabbed a beer from the fridge and sat down, turning on the television he had purchased and installed in his room. He didn't have cable, but he could pick up local channels okay, despite the depth of the bunker.

"In other news," a young local newsman was reporting, "Officials are still baffled by the large cloud of darkness over much of Kansas and Nebraska. Flights have been rerouted, and though search and rescue parties have entered, very few people have returned. It has been made known that those who have returned are found to be in a catatonic state, unable to communicate with authorities as to what is within it. The National Guard has placed roadblocks at all roads leading into or out of the cloud, and residents of the areas within a 50 mile radius are currently strongly encouraged to evacuate, while residents within ten miles of the cloud are being mandatorily evac-ed, as the cloud does seem to be slowly expanding.

"The president addressed the public today with words of comfort for those whose family members reside within the cloud. He also encouraged everyone to remain calm, and has assured the population that this is an isolated incident. Some are contributing the cloud to the Apocalypse, while others claim it's the result of frakking -"

Sam turned the television off. He had seen enough. He thought back on the scene tonight. Two vampires - no, he reminded himself in Ivy's voice - two _people_ had been released from a curse. He thought she was quite wrong about them being able to find comfort, and peace, but he couldn't remember the look in Dean's eyes as she had touched him, whispering something in his ear before leaving.

When Sam lay down, his head was awash in the things he had seen on their trip through the Darkness. He got up, forgoing another beer in exchange for something stronger, and waited to be too drunk to think about it.

* * *

Dean lay awake in his room, staring at the ceiling. He held in his hands the card the young woman, Ivy, had given him earlier that day, and wished he could figure out what the hell was wrong with him. She had offered him everything he desired - forgiveness, peace. Hell, he'd even seen her magic, if that was what it was called, with his own eyes. And yet, deep inside, he desired nothing more than to hurt her. To make her weep for daring to tell him that anything he had done could ever actually be forgiven. His body shook with rage - or, was it rage? Could it have been fear instead? Maybe even… hope? No. He would not allow himself to hope again.

Never.

"Dammit, Cas," Dean whispered, "I know you're not _you_ right now, but dammit, I _need_ you. I need you whole, and healthy, and not trying to kill people because I'm trying really hard not to kill people anymore, and it's… it's really just -" He broke off. He couldn't tell anyone what was going on in his head because _he_ didn't know what was going on in his head. He just knew that it all hurt far too much.

He fingered the business card in his hands. He could make it all go away. He could just make a call. But something told him that it just wouldn't work. It couldn't be this easy. He didn't deserve to have it this easy. But, just because he didn't deserve it didn't mean that Cas didn't. He sat up. There was nothing wrong with giving her a call and asking if she had any experience with angels, right? Sammy was still up studying, which meant he hadn't found anything. And, while Dean ostensibly agreed that they needed to find Cas for Darkness-related reasons, Dean really just needed his best friend back.

The phone rang and Dean felt a stab of worry that she wouldn't answer, or that it would have been a prank, but after three rings, he heard her voice. And even then, it quieted something inside of him at the memory of her touch. "Yes?"

Dean tried to play it cool, hoping she wouldn't notice his voice shaking. "Hey Ivy. It's Dean."

Her voice echoed as if she were in a large, empty place. "Guy from the woods?"

Dean arched his eyebrows. He'd forgotten that he and Sam had never introduced themselves to her. "Uh, yeah. Hah. That's me. Dean is my name."

"The tall one? Or the taller one?"

Dean grinned. "The tall one." Was that water he heard sloshing in the background?

"Well, hello," she said. "What can I do for you?"

"Hey, listen. I just wondered. Do you have any experience with angels?"

She was silent for a moment and Dean was now certain that he heard water. "I've met a couple in my time." She didn't sound happy.

"It's just, I know you were touting this miracle cure earlier -"

"It's not a miracle. Nor is it a cure," she interrupted. "It's a restoration of balance."

"Um… yeah. That. We've got a friend who is under some kind of spell. Do you fix those?"

She was silent for a long time, and only the sloshing of water let Dean know she hadn't disconnected. "What kind of friend? And what kind of spell?"

"He's…" Dean trailed off. "He's an angel. And we don't really know what kind of spell. It was cast on him by a witch."

"A witch. Cast a spell. On an angel."

"Well," Dean replied, feeling sillier by the moment. "Yeah, basically. And we don't know anything about the spell and so we don't know anything about the remedy." Silence. Even the sloshing of water stopped. "Ivy?"

"I'm not sure, Dean. Angels are kind of out of my typical scope."

"Oh, sure." Dean said, the disappointment in his voice apparent. "That's cool. I was just thinking…"

"I'm not saying I won't try," she said gently, "I'm just saying that I'm not certain if we can help or not. If he was anything that was once human, I could do it. But… well, angels are a separate species altogether. It's kind of like asking a general practitioner to treat a dog. Could they? Maybe. But is it likely? Not terribly. Although it is beneficial that he was cursed by a witch. I know a great deal about witchcraft. And spells."

"This spell may have come out of a book called the Book of the Damned," Dean warned.

"Ah yes. We're quite familiar with it. Or, we were, when it was originally penned."

"You are?" Dean stood, surprised.

"Of course," Ivy continued, although she didn't actually sound like Ivy anymore now that he thought about it. "That book contains the means to our calling. We were instrumental in its creation."

"Ivy, _you_ wrote the Book of the Damned?"

"Don't be foolish, child," the voice was definitely _not_ Ivy. It was that _other_ voice. The one that had introduced itself to the brothers earlier tonight as the Daughter. "We did not _write_ the Book. We _allowed_ the book to be written. For it has been prophesied - and so it shall be, that when the darkness comes, then, too, shall come the light."

Dean was, in that very moment, quite afraid. "And… um… what is the light?" His voice conveying his fear.

"The light is We and We be the Light. We dance electric, Dean Winchester. Dare you to dance with us?"

Dean didn't know what to say, and so he said nothing.

The phone was silent for a long, long, time. Dean sat, his pulse in his ears, watching the call time on the phone tick up second by second. A full three minutes went by before Ivy spoke up, this time sounding like herself once again. "You may bring your angel friend to the William and Mary College Aquatic Center," she said, sounding exhausted. "I'll be here for the next four days. After that, I can't promise I'll be able to help him. Or you."

The call ended.

Dean cautiously sat his phone down on his nightstand, lay back in bed, and decided that he hadn't really needed to sleep tonight anyway.

* * *

The next morning, Dean and Sam arrived on the William and Mary campus. They nervously carried a pair of duffle bags through the historic buildings, hoping they wouldn't draw much attention to themselves. It was fortunate for them that the students were more concerned with coffee and getting from class to class. Had they been noticed, or worse, reported, security would have found plenty of reasons to suspect them of some sort of attack upon the campus, and things would have ended poorly.

When they reached the Aquatics Center, a sign was posted alerting the brothers to the fact that the center was closed due to renovations. Sam knelt down to pick the lock, but was surprised when the door swung open silently. Ivy stood in the doorway, soaking wet and wrapped in a towel.

Seeing her in the light, Dean was surprised by just how small she was. The night before, in the flickering of the firelight and the shadows of the trees, she had seemed far bigger than she did this morning. She was barely a wisp of a woman, standing just over 5'6, and her hair was the silver Dean thought was reserved for the elderly. Although, last night, she _had_ let them know that she was far, far older than they would have assumed.

She said nothing, but led them into the center, which was quite dim, lit only by high windows. They crossed the check-in desk and the locker rooms. Ivy opened the double doors at the end of the hall and entered the pool area. It was impressive, and not only because it was a full-sized pool. The water swirled in every color imaginable, and some that both Sam and Dean were certain didn't really exist. A dim light emanated from the pool water, leaving the surrounding area feeling like an underwater grotto in some animated movie.

Without even a nod of acknowledgement, Ivy dropped the towel and dove into the pool. Dean got the barest glimpse of bare skin as she dove, not seeing a single tattoo. He furrowed his brow in confusion before she surfaced, resting in the water as if she were lounging in a chair. "Where is your angel?" she asked finally.

"Uh…" Sam lifted the duffle bag he had sat beside his feet when they entered the pool room. "We've got to summon him."

"And trap him," Dean added.

"And you call him a friend?" Ivy asked, wry humor in her voice.

"It's… complicated," Dean replied.

"It always is," she sighed, laying on her back and floating on the water. "Well, get on with it. I'm not just here for your benefit. I have a life," she continued. "I have a very full schedule involving floating here in this water until my telephone rings. Or until we decide to move on."

Sam and Dean began their preparations, setting up first a ring of Holy Oil, then the ritual. All the time, each kept glancing back at Ivy, who floated in the water with her eyes closed as if she were sleeping. The light from the water slowly grew and diminished as if pulsating.

The spell was cast, the ritual completed, and with the sound of fluttering wings, Castiel appeared. His clothes were in tatters, his face covered in dried blood. He glanced around, and fearful that he was about to run, Dean flicked his lighter and dropped it into the oil, trapping his friend inside. "How _dare_ you!" Castiel roared, rushing to the very edge of the flame and screaming in anger. His entire face was contorted in pain.

Sam and Dean jerked back, not having expected such an angry response. "Cas," Dean said softly, "It's us. We brought you here to help you."

"I require no assistance!" Cas snarled.

"My goodness," came Ivy's voice from directly behind the brothers. "You truly are like an injured animal." She was still nude, her silver hair falling to her hips as she walked past the two men, through the flames, and toward the angel, who was staring at her with a mixture of fear and anger and backing away quickly.

She knelt in the middle of the ring of Holy Fire, and put one hand out in front of her as if she were coaxing a stray dog to come to her. "Come to me," she whispered. "I promise I won't hurt you."

Castiel, who had moments before been raging and straining to attack the Winchesters, was now cowering at the outer edge of the ring, crouching in on himself. "What are you?" he growled.

"A friend," she said softly. She turned back to the brothers. "This will take me a while. Go get yourselves something to eat. And bring me back something high in fat and full of carbs."

Not knowing what else to do, Sam and Dean slowly walked away. When Sam glanced back as they exited the doors, Castiel was maybe an inch or two closer to her than he had been before. She remained crouched in the center of the ring, looking very primal in the glow of the fire and water. He closed the door behind him, shared a look with Dean, and the two men left the aquatic center in silence.


End file.
